By four o’clock that afternoon, Lisa and the movers, with a little nudge here and there from me, had the apartment looking livable. The couch and chairs in the living room gathered around the black cocktail table, new expandable dining room table with chairs, bed in place waiting to be made, and the kitchen cabinets full. Ditto the fridge. All that was left was a load of boxes in my new home office to be opened.

I sat down in one of the wing chairs facing the couch, which faced the flat screen. “Well done, Miss Melnick,”

Lisa flopped in the other one. “You too, Mr. Kraft.”

“Look,” I said leaning toward her. “If you’ve got to be somewhere, you’ve gone way beyond the call of duty for today, lady.”

She leaned in toward me, her deep brown eyes zeroed in on mine. “I am a single lady, once divorced as you well know, sir, with no significant other and an open Saturday night. Can I just sit and relax a minute? Besides, I must smell like I just ran a marathon.”

I was still wearing the old New York Marathon T-shirt and sweat pants in which I started the day and never gave that a thought. I stuck my head into the T-shirt. “Whew! How the hell do we stand each other?” We both laughed.

“Well…” I gestured. “…umm…the towels are already in the closet. I think you put the soap in the stall shower, right?”

She nodded.

“Well then,” I said with a shrug, “go take a shower. I’ll open a box or two, okay?”

She gave me a sweet look with her head cocked to the side and stood. “So you’re not going to send me home all dirty and sweaty?”

“Not unless you want to leave.”

She gave me the throaty laugh and headed for the master bathroom.